


Two Bros in a Helicopter

by InediblePeriwinkle



Category: Henry Stickmin Series (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Teasing, fluff piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27092650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InediblePeriwinkle/pseuds/InediblePeriwinkle
Summary: Charles loves flying and will talk literally anyone's ear off about it at any given moment. Indulge him enough times, and eventually he'll offer to teach you to fly. Or maybe that last offer is just for Henry.
Relationships: Charles Calvin/Henry Stickmin
Comments: 9
Kudos: 245





	Two Bros in a Helicopter

Charles was waiting at the stairs in front of Henry’s apartment well before they were supposed to meet. 

Yeah sure, he was a grown adult. Someone with 10 years of extensive military experience under his belt and the skills of an ace pilot placed into a dangerous operation. He also bounced on the balls of his feet as Henry came down the stairs dressed quite reluctantly in a near identical uniform. Charles’ smile nearly split his face in half. 

Henry’s boots hit the last step, camo pants tucked into his boots just like Charles wore his, and H. STICKMIN was embroidered plainly on his jacket. 

While it had been a while since Charles wondered if he’d find Henry gone the next morning when he knocked on his door and shouted his greetings it was still comforting to see this physical reminder that Henry was here. To stay. 

With him. 

“Morning!” Charles held out a second cup of coffee, winking in what he hoped was an endearing way, “Today’s the day, Henry!” 

A bright smile spread over the ex-criminal’s tired face and he reached for the coffee with both hands. 

Charles gave it to him, heart squeezing, cupping his own drink in both hands to mirror the thief. 

Four months ago, Henry’s smiles never reached his eyes like that, never warmed them to something dark and sweet. It definitely hadn’t come before such a soft look, either, curved around the rim of a paper cup and obviously directed at him. 

Something about that just made his damn heart melt.

“Americano,” The pilot said, boots scuffling as he shifted weight, “You said you liked espresso more than black coffee.” 

Henry nodded, down into his cup. 

‘Thank you,’ He signed, though Charles was fairly certain he wasn’t supposed to touch his fingers to his lips first like he just had. 

“You’re welcome,” He replied, sidling up to him with a bright grin. “Don’t want you falling asleep today.” 

Henry rolled his eyes with a smile, nudging his arm gently as they started walking. 

“You’re going to love this,” Charles’ joy was bubbling over, his words spilling out of his mouth like frothing vomit, “Yeah, I’ve got everything set up. You’ve watched me enough times that I know you’re going to get this, but uh…I’m gonna be here the whole time if you need any help, okay?” 

Henry nodded again, shoulder pressed against his, familiar fabric rubbing against his own worn jacket. 

Henry’s didn’t have Charles’ specifics, his Warrant Officer status or the secret insignia that marked him as the technical leader of their crew, but it was made of the same stuff and had it’s own secret stitching to identify that he was an important person if someone else in on the know were to come across him. 

Charles wanted more than anything to sling his arm around Henry’s shoulders, squeeze him into a half hug and laugh in utter joy as he knocked off the identical headset from around Henry’s neck, but the guy could be tetchy about contact. 

He’d grabbed Henry intending on a rather drunken hug during a night out to celebrate a successful raid and the guy had cringed away from him with his whole body. 

And then _he_ apologized to _Charles_. 

God, he’d felt like such an asshole after that. He didn’t make it a big deal, yeah, but _oh_ he’d beat himself up mentally for ages afterwards. For real, he wasn’t looking to make him uncomfortable, especially when he wasn’t sure how solid Henry’s trust was in him. 

The thief’s relationships were very fragile. He was flighty, nervous, used to being stabbed in the back. Nothing was certain. 

But that was the past. This was now. 

And now they walked together towards the hangars, so close that their arms were connected from shoulder to elbow, each with a coffee in hand and an identical uniform. Now, Henry smiled with his whole face when he saw Charles around base. Now, he often spoke in full sentences if the two of them were alone. Now, Henry laughed out loud in public and didn’t spent every waking moment trying to be quiet as possible. 

He sought out Charles’ company. He asked questions. He was warming to the new addition to their squad. He ordered Charles around during missions and grinned at him afterwards. He was getting comfortable, seemed happy, seemed to understand he had friends now. 

He seemed happy, and Charles was happy. 

And today, he was really, really happy. 

They stood by the hangars, tossing empty cups into garbage, leaning against the cold building like it didn’t chill them to their bones. 

Henry stayed next to Charles, so close that he could feel him breathe. 

Charles closed his eyes, listening, enjoying the comforting noises of pre-flight. His adrenaline was already spiking, conditioned to know what was coming next. 

“You nervous?” Charles asked, looking over at his companion. “Excited?” 

Henry shrugged, wriggling his hands slightly and making air quotes. 

‘Kind of.’ 

He probably should have just asked one question at a time. 

“You’ll be great at it,” Charles said honestly. “You’ve got an eye for detail and you’re quick thinking. They would have snapped you up if you actually enlisted, Hen.” 

The man wrinkled his nose at the nickname. He did look flattered, however, signing quickly in a way that Charles could think seemed flustered. 

He pointed to Charles then made a motion like he was quickly scratching his chin with two fingers. 

The pilot cocked his head. 

“I don’t think I know that one,” He said honestly, “What’s that? I’m what?” 

Henry signed it again, his fore and middle fingers together in a swipe down his lips, chin. 

‘Mostly means: you are,’ Henry thought for a moment. ‘Good. Nice.’ 

Charles tipped his head the other way, smiling. 

‘Means s-w-e-e-t,’ Henry looked somewhere past Charles’ shoulder, ‘or c-u-t-e.’ 

Oh. 

He barked out a laugh, startling Henry and making himself want to slam his stupid face into the hangar door. 

“Ohhh…very cool.” He was a fucking idiot. “Neat.” 

Henry raised an eyebrow. 

Boy. 

“Come on,” Charles nudged Henry, “You get in, I’m helping with checks, okay?” 

The two jogged out onto the tarmac, Charles waving Henry inside and assisting in pre-flight. 

Oh, this was going to be so much fun. He wasn’t lying, Henry was practically built for this. His calling he never knew had been calling him, you know? 

Charles loved flying. He loved it more than anything, he was totally honest about that. There was something incredible about flying. Something that never got old. Especially if you did a couple things you really weren’t supposed to, once you escaped a bad situation due to your training, instincts, quick reactions. As soon as you got control something so powerful and make it float among the clouds, once you carried your brethren from harm on your back, the moment flying injected itself into your veins, you were a goner forever. 

He couldn’t wait to share it. 

Charles stepped back, swinging himself into the helicopter with a blinding grin. 

Henry was sitting in the pilot’s seat already, feet planted where they should be, ready to take the pedals. His fingers ghosted over the collective and cyclic. 

Charles took a shuddery breath, switching his headset to ‘active’ mode and plopping himself down beside him. 

Henry straightened, beaming, hands folding neatly in his lap like a child. 

“Now, this is a bit different from mine, you’ll notice,” Charles said cheerfully, patting the machine’s inner sides, “The General wasn’t really set on the idea of you piloting a machine worth a few million to start with.” 

“You’ve lost enough of them,” Henry quietly snarked, voice directly in Charles’ ears. 

“Hey!” He shifted the headset on his head, laughing softly, “Don’t come for me, Henry.” 

The thief touched his feet to the pedals without applying any pressure, fingers rubbing thumbs in an odd gesture. 

Charles watched his hands, ready to catch any half-formed words or symptoms of being nervous. 

“This one doesn’t taxi,” Henry asked, moving his feet back again, “Like yours. Right?” 

Oh! He’d paid attention to that. 

“No,” He replied, “We’ll go right up. You’ve watched me enough to be able to do this, you know what everything does and it’s going to be _so much fun_.” 

Henry nodded, that faint, contented smile still on his face. Charles’ heart was racing in anticipation. 

He was dashing, sitting in the pilot’s seat, with a dark headset and all uniformed up. Two covert ops bros headed out for some fun. 

“Okay,” Charles was nearly vibrating in excitement. “First, you need to open the throttle so you-”

He paused, staring, as Henry did so and looked over. Expectantly. He was tapping the collective already. 

Above them, the sound screeched as the beast came to life, ready for the next step. 

“Yes?” Henry checked, and Charles ignored the wild question marks bouncing around the inside of his brain. 

“Slow,” He warned, his own hand hovering over Henry’s. “Pull up, wait until I tell you we’ve got enough torque.” 

Henry listened, shockingly, and placed his left foot on the pedal in preparation. 

“Okay…” Charles muttered to himself.

There was a fluttering of rotors, of pure power being whipped above their heads. It was whining, a sound that was scorched into Charles’ very being, the injection before the drug, full power waiting for the final nudge up into the air and away from the Earth. 

“Wait,” Charles told Henry, a hand resting on his forearm. He didn’t trust him not to grab the cyclic lever before they were ready, even if he clearly knew something about what he was doing. 

Thinking about that made him feel a little like the world was tilted, a weirdly irritating, enthralling, hotly attractive thing. Shove that aside, Calvin. 

“Uh…just…okay, be careful. Ease up.” 

Henry lifted his foot slightly, helicopter shaking with the turbulence of its own rotors as they slowly rose into the ground. Easy. 

The thief reached for the lever and Charles stared, transfixed, at the solemn, concentrated expression on his face. 

The thing shuddered, a shiver that ricocheted up Charles’ spine, and Henry nudged them forward. 

He did not pick all of this up from just listening to Charles tell him repeatedly what everything did, much as he’d love to give himself the credit. Charles had taken a lot of green people into the air before now. 

“You make this look easy,” Henry said, eyes flitting over the terrain. “You said we were going to the outpost, right?” 

“Uhh…yeah,” Charles licked his dry lips, “You’ve flown before. Outside the simulators.” 

Henry sent him a side look, a quick, tilted thing. He smirked. 

Charles shook his head, slowly, as Henry focused on flight. He had the same furrow in his brows that would cause Charles to have permanent wrinkles in a few more years. His hands were gripping the levers with a wild anxiety, and he ought to tell him to relax, trust himself, he was doing fine. 

He was a mystery to everyone, you know? 

Henry’s files were sealed. To protect him, Charles knew, but sometimes he felt like if it hadn’t been sealed, he would have looked. It was a breach of privacy, yes, but Charles would have been tempted regardless. 

His past was a giant question mark. He hadn’t even known how old he was until he mentioned they were the same age. His abilities seemed to include a little of everything. 

He’d been startled a month back when Henry sat down into a cloud of dust at a piano and just played, a trilling, rolling song that seemed too cheerful for the thief but appeared to make him happy anyhow. He’d seem to lose himself, playing in an echoing room without another soul in sight. 

He could have sat at the table forever, watching Henry play music on a half-tuned piano in the broken light of an abandoned Toppat base. A waste, The General had called it, not a thing inside of worth. 

But Charles watched the muscles in Henry’s lean body shift as he flit around the keys, watched his serene expression, the soft look he sent over his shoulder to the person listening entranced, and he had to personally disagree. 

“Just ask.” 

Charles blinked, realizing with no small horror that he’d completely spaced out while up in the air. 

“What?” He asked over a racing pulse. 

“Ask me,” Henry was trying very badly to hide his smile, “I’ll answer you.” 

The pilot sat back, useless in the cockpit for the first time since he was spring green, folding his arms and watching Henry struggle to turn the right direction. 

“Easy,” Charles reached for his arm again, sliding his hand to Henry’s wrist. “Ease up. You’re doing it right but you’re going at it way too rough for my taste.” 

Henry shot him a shit-eating grin, dark eyes alight. 

Ooh. Charles let go of his wrist, face warming. He was teasing him, and it was hard to tell him to be serious when he had to bite back his own laughter. 

“You’re lucky I’m not flying this time,” Charles told him, “I can’t kick you out.” 

“You wouldn’t,” Henry said with authority. “I don’t know if I’m doing this right.” 

“You’re doing fine,” Charles assured him, “It’s not pretty, but it works. You uh…you wanna tell me why you caught on this so fast?” 

Henry smiled, small, a man with a secret. 

“Stole a helicopter.” 

“You…stole a helicopter.” 

“Yes.” 

Charles licked his lips, gently touching Henry’s arm to guide him. “So uh…do I get to hear the whole story, or are you going to be super mysterious about it?” 

Henry laughed. The sound struck Charles right through the heart. 

He’d wondered how a man like Henry would do on base. Forced to live a relatively militant life- with, if he was being honest, far too many liberties- among people he had no real connection to. Well, outside of him. But Henry didn’t like soldiers. Or authority. 

But he’d only ever started to hear him laugh after all this began. 

This teasing, laid-back guy with sneaky smiles, the jokes he signed over to Charles in the meetings, this new confidence bordering on smugness, it was all fresh. The tugs on Charles’ sleeve when he had something urgent to tell him when before he had kept yards between them. The late night talks in each other’s apartments, draped over furniture and discussing the world’s stupidest questions with all the seriousness of philosophers. 

It was new. It was growing. And it captivated Charles to be able to watch. 

“I can tell you,” Henry said, with that secretive smile still on his face. His gaze flit over, blinding Charles with it. “It didn’t go this well, before. But I didn’t have you.” 

Oh, God. Henry was going to kill him if he kept talking like that. 

“Uh, hey, watch what you’re doing,” Charles’ voice came out a little softer than he meant, “Can’t come for my ace pilot status if you crash us into the trees.” 

“You crash us into everything else,” Henry muttered, but he paid attention as prompted. 

“Excuse you!” Charles whipped his hand away, grin showing his teeth, “Yeah, I am your _superior officer,_ Stickmin, and you look like a soldier.” 

Henry wrinkled his nose. 

“So stop being sassy.” 

He saw the glint in his eye before Henry even spoke: “Sorry, Sir.” 

Nuh-uh. Henry broke out that smooth, velvety voice on purpose and it did _not_ send a curling heat through his veins, knock it off. 

“Oh yeah, we aren’t doing that,” Charles said, firmly, cheeks ablaze, “You should be watching our altitude.” 

“So you admit-”

“I’m not saying anything!” Charles bit his tongue as the words came out as a whine. Henry was trying not to laugh again. As if Charles couldn’t see his shaking shoulders. 

Look, it wasn’t a thing. It wasn’t a thing, alright, because Henry just never talked to _anyone_ with any quantity of respect and likewise Charles never got have _anyone_ talk to him like someone of his rank deserved. So it was just…a flattery thing. Acknowledgement of his hard-earned station. More like praise than anything else, so it was more like- 

Oh, god-fucking-dammit. 

“Not like someone,” Charles could feel the furious blush on his own face worsen, “Who had an _incident_ , because they like to be-”

“No,” Henry’s audibly gasped when Charles brought it up, “You were- no, we were just- you were too close to me!” 

“I was just trying to shield us from the enemy’s sight, that was all _I_ was-”

“-Right up against me, so what was I supposed-”

“-We were _hiding from the enemy_ -”

“You had me _pinned_ ,” Henry spoke over him, efficiently shutting him up, “Against the _wall_ , by your _full body_ , and I am flying a helicopter right now, Charles.” 

Well, put in his place, wasn't he? The pilot settled back against his seat, arms crossed, not like Henry could really appreciate it. 

Oh god, the tension between them. Charles did not like tension in his presence when he was in flight, too many things can go wrong when emotions mix with tons of machinery hurtling through the air. Even if this was a lazy sort of tension, hungry, the kind that tugged them ever closer instead of farther apart, he needed to put a stop to it, quick. 

"So uh..." He pointed, and had to grab Henry from over banking, "Uh....." 

Oh god, he was blanking. Henry was radiating warmth through the sleeve of his jacket. 

"I stole a helicopter," The thief blurted, "From...that group. The one I did jobs for but didn't join." 

He said that like Charles was still nervous about it. Long gone was the idea that Henry would leave him for the wild, thieving life of a Toppat. The fact he could think that with all faith was a testament to the work they'd both put into this partnership. 

Uh, business partnership.

"Oh yeah?" He said, rubbing the residual heat from his face, "What happened?" 

"Went badly," Henry's lips curved back into a smile. "I was making my getaway. Never flown before." 

Charles scrunched up his brows as he watched the base below come into view. "And you just...what? Decided to wing the thing?" 

"No," Henry said, "I watched a youtube video on it, first. Similar machine." 

Charles was pretty sure he flatlined and came back to life rather reluctantly in the seconds that passed. He clutched his chest. 

"Y- what?" He was incredulous. "No." 

"Yep," Henry chirped, the asshole, "I got it off the ground." 

Charles covered his face with his hands. Mission be damned, this was the worst thing he'd ever heard. 

"Crashed it into a watchtower. You would have been proud." 

"Do you know how much _training_ you need to go through to even touch the controls?!" 

"No," Henry answered honestly. "I'm not interested in flying. I have you for that." 

Charles peered at him through his fingers. He thought that would endear him back, huh?

"Charles," Henry laughed, soft huffs between words that softened his broken heart, "Tell me how to land." 

"Sure you don't want to just check wikihow?" The professional pilot snarked, but of course he jumped right into it. "Get over the pad and then ease up on the cycli- I said _ease_ , Henry!" 

Henry shot him an innocent smile. 

"Look," Charles shook his head, begrudgingly affectionate, "I told you, worst thing to do-"

"Overcompensate," Henry repeated. "Tell me what next." 

"See which way the wind is drifting us," Charles leaned back, watching Henry squint his eyes at a fixed point, "And figure out how to hold us still." 

The thief slowly shifted, bringing everything in. Good. He was concentrated, like he did over papers and maps and pamphlets about jems. Dark eyes flicking over every point, mind whirling faster than even Charles' odd brain could keep up with. 

"Good," He said as they stabilized, and Henry shot him another dazzling smile. 

They descended, the two, onto the tarmac, which Charles braced himself for. 

They hit, both making the same 'oof' sound at the same time, and immediately laughed after. 

Charles turned his whole body in his seat, more or less ignoring the officers waving at them from outside. 

"So?" He asked, and Henry raised an eyebrow at him fondly. "I know it's not your first time flying. But..." 

"I don't like it," The thief shrugged, unbucking and standing like he hadn't just broken Charles' heart. "I knew I didn't." 

Charles was a grown man, but he knew looking sorrowful seemed to break Henry to pieces if he timed it well. He saw the thief flinch. He rolled his eyes right after.

"Ch-"

"Officer Calvin?" 

Charles squinted at the newcomer. "Uh, yes?" 

"Are we doing your checks for you?" 

Ooh, he didn't like the way she said that. Neither did Henry, if the thousand-yard stare he sent the other officer was anything to go by. 

"No," Charles bit himself from adding the honorific, "I've got it." 

Didn't even add a thanks. 

He looked back at Henry, who was quiet. 

The man looked back at him, lips pursed. 

'I told you,' He signed quickly, 'I like it when you fly. I like being a passenger, I don't love it like you do.' 

Fair. Charles sighed. 

"Then why'd you agree to it?" He asked, "I talked your ear off about this for weeks." 

Henry shrugged and nodded, clearly agreeing. The only answer he gave was a full glance-over, dark gaze flitting from his face down and back up. Slowly. 

Huh? 

"What?" Charles said, and Henry turned around. 

He signed again, that new sign, with a wild shit-eating grin. Then he walked past the other officers, off to god knows where, acting like he knew exactly what he was doing. 

The pilot sat stupidly in place, face flaming, with two other officers staring at him disapprovingly. 

_'You're cute when you're excited.'_


End file.
